"You're on, Gallagher. We'll create the best damn coffee beer Pelican Point has ever seen and win this fucking competition."
"You mean, the best coffee beerFloridahas ever seen," she points out. "We’re not low-balling here."
"Even better. We'll raise the bar and reset the standard."
Her laugh is unexpected and genuine, and it rewires something in my brain. "That's the most optimistic thing I've ever heard you say."
"I'm sure I'll be back to my cantankerous self by tomorrow, so don’t get used to it."
"I'll savor the moment while it lasts." Merri heads for the door, those lean legs carrying her away with more grace than should be legal. She pauses at the threshold to look back at me. The antagonism on her face softens, just for a second, replaced by what might be resolve. Or plain old resignation to our shared fate.
"Be at my brewery tomorrow, ten AM sharp. We'll start planning this out."
"I'll be there."
"Good." She pauses, then adds, "Bring your best coffee."
"Same goes for your beer. I'm not working with anything subpar."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Then she's gone, leaving me alone in the conference room with my thoughts and the feeling like I just made a deal with the devil. Or maybe with the devil's particularly attractive and infuriating younger sister.
I sink into the chair, staring at the bloated ceiling tile and wondering what the hell I just agreed to. Working with Merri Gallagher. Spending time in close quarters with the one person who drives me absolutely insane—and not always in a bad way, which is its own problem.
My phone buzzes. A text from Danny.
You and my sister are teaming up?? Should I start planning your funeral now or wait until after the competition?
I type back:
After. I might actually survive this. How the hell did you hear about this so fast?
His response is immediate:
I have my sources. This’ll be fun to watch. I'm taking bets at the bar. Current odds are 3:1 that you kill each other before the competition even starts.
Gee, thanks. That's encouraging.
Just being realistic, man. You two have been at war since grade school. It’ll either end in death or something else.
Something else?
Use your imagination, dude.
I shove my phone back in my pocket, refusing to think about what Danny might mean. He always had a weird theory that Merri and I fight because of "unresolved attraction" or some other psychological bullshit he picked up from his girlfriend who's getting her master's in therapy.
I head for the exit, already mentally bracing myself for tomorrow. Merri wants to prove her beer is the best in Florida? Fine. I'll make damn sure my coffee is so good she can't argue with the results.
Chapter 4
Merri
Icheck my phone again, as if the time has changed dramatically in the last thirty seconds: 9:47 AM.
My legs refuse to stop, carrying me back and forth across the production room floor while my brain cycles through every way this could blow up in my face. Why did I agree to this? What was I thinking?
The brewery smells like heaven, all malt and hops and possibility, which normally soothes me regardless of the world outside my walls. Now the only thing I can think about is the fact that Wyatt Dalton is about to walk through my door in thirteen minutes.
